


Naming Day

by Butterfly



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-31
Updated: 2005-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Darth Maul had had a friend, once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naming Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written with no EU knowledge.

The hillside was bursting with life: flowers bloomed in lavender, orange, and crystal; birds called out to each other with glorious song; a pair of long-tailed chojaricks chittered to each other from the branches of the lone tree.

It seemed that Lord Sidious was correct – the Force didn’t care, wasn’t sentient in any way, and wouldn’t so much as pause at the death of an innocent.

Blood was seeping into the hillside and, next year, the flowers would only bloom more vibrantly before. They noticed a death only to use it. It seemed that the Force was the same.

“You begin to see the truth.” The voice was a croak, the appearance of being weak. Lord Sidious always spoke thus, though Haluron had the Sight that came in his people but rarely and knew that his new lord was much healthier than he played at being. Haluron did not understand the need for deception, but he did not understand much that Lord Sidious did.

“I see much that I thought impossible,” Haluron said, not rising from his kneeling position in front of the corpse, but turning his head to catch Lord Sidious in his sights. Lord Sidious strode up the hill, crushing zu-zo blossoms under his heels. “Eventually, someone from the village will come.”

“Are you afraid to die, young Zabrak?” Lord Sidious asked, and Haluron could feel the scorn in him, strong and fierce. Haluron turned his head back down, reached out towards the side of the corpse’s face, just shy of touching it – it should be no hardship to remember that this body was not Jauron, that Jauron was no more, and yet the dead thing drew his attention in a way that it should not.

“I fear nothing,” Haluron said quietly, and Lord Sidious laughed, sharp and cold. Perhaps in disbelief, perhaps because he could feel the simple truth of Haluron’s words, and knew that Haluron had no fears left – all had centered around Jauron finding out the truth, and that could never happen now.

And yet the sight of the corpse still drew him.

The wound was hidden, and Haluron resisted the urge to flip the body over and touch the place where his small blade had violated it. Such weakness in front of his new lord would be disastrous. Already, he was too much in his lord’s debt, too deeply to escape.

“I understand that your people have a word for this day, for the day a child makes his first kill,” Lord Sidious said, and Haluron could not hide the shiver that took his body for a moment.

“Naming Day,” Haluron said, and his voice did not shake. Naming Day was the celebration of a new hunter, who would clean and cook his first kill publicly, who would kneel in the center square and rise to a name befitting one who was no longer dependent on others for food. Sidious twisted the meaning beyond existence.

“Ah, yes, I remember,” Sidious said, and the false note in his voice made anger rise up in a growl at the back of Haluron’s throat. Yet he bridled the hate, pushed it down, deep in his heart. Attacking Sidious would be worth less than nothing.

Attacking Sidious would not bring Jauron to life again.

“If you wish to make your final goodbyes to your friend, I understand,” Sidious said, making a play at kindness, though his manner of it was clumsy. “My ship leaves the moment you board it.”

Haluron nodded and did not watch Sidious leave.

Sidious was a fool to think that any kind of goodbye was possible – Jauron was gone and this was just a body, just a useless corpse made to feed the flowers. _Jauron_ was mocking smiles and pushes down hillsides and running in the tall grass.

Still, Haluron reached out and touched the cooling flesh of the body’s face. The elders would find it, bury it in a shallow grave to cycle back into the world, and they would wonder over Haluron’s fate. Perhaps some would guess the truth, but Haluron thought that to be unlikely.

They would blame the loss of Jauron on Sidious, the outsider, the one who never showed his face. They would blame of loss of Haluron on him, too. The three of them would become part of the story, part of the reason why outsiders were never to be fully trusted.

Perhaps Haluron should have paid closer heed to the story.

Too late for regret, too late for choice. Perhaps too late by the time he’d asked Jauron to meet him on this hill, far out of sight of the village, close to where Sidious had placed his flying ship. A favored hill of theirs, true, but that had been before Sidious had arrived.

Perhaps it had even been too late by the time of the long conversation that Sidious had had with him, about envy and freedom, about birds in the night. Sidious had asked the name of his best friend and smiled when Haluron had easily mentioned Jauron. Sidious had asked if he was Jauron’s best friend as well.

Perhaps it had been too late when Haluron had allowed doubt to enter his mind.

He had spoken of Numeron, one that Jauron spent much time with, and Sidious had made approving sounds at the name, had mentioned meeting him and thinking what a quick, smart lad he was.

Haluron had felt something twist in his stomach, had let himself wonder if Jauron thought such things as well. Had thought not just of Numeron, but of Heluron and Greron, others that Jauron spoke of fondly.

To be jealous was to walk the narrow line towards disobedience, towards ruin. The elders spoke of such dangers often, and more often to Haluron than to most. And yet, he knew that this was the name of the feeling that had gripped him, that had held him until the moment on the hillside when Jauron had looked at him with confusion.

Until Jauron had asked why, and it was too late to say why he could not explain.

Even now, the sour taste of jealousy filled Haluron up to the brim. Even now, he was not sure if Jauron had cared for him above others. No light of truth had come to him, as Sidious had implied would happen.

Nothing had changed, for the loss of Jauron.

Nothing had changed, but the loss of Jauron.

Haluron rose from his knees and stared up the hill at the tree there, where creatures played. He and Jauron had often climbed that tree, displacing the chojaricks and laughing at the bird sounds. They would tumble down from the branches and lay in the softness of the grass. Many times, they had stayed past nightfall, and counted the stars together, risking their parents’ disappointed faces.

They would speak of the future, of the idea of passing the age of twelve years and finally being allowed the chance to try hunting, to earn a new name. They would speak of the past, of summer festivals and winter fasting. They would speak of the moment, or capture a skittering baruka to play with and then release.

Now, Jauron would never earn a hunting name, would never again taste the sweetness of the jujan berry or the crispness of a spring werun. Jauron would no longer laugh with him about the foolishness of the olders or the contested wisdom of some of the elders.

Sidious had said that the first time would be the hardest, and Haluron hoped that it was true. Jauron’s blood on his hands had felt nothing like vindication. Jaruon’s body on the grass looked nothing close to beautiful. Haluron, himself, did not feel cleansed and strong.

In truth, he felt weaker than he could ever remember feeling.

But one thing that Sidous had said still rang true in Haluron’s heart – this had bound him up in Sidious, and there was no turning back. Knowing the truth, the village would shun him. Jauron’s mother would condemn him and demand the ancient rite of shared blood.

When she was finished, his body would be burnt, even the flowers denied to him. Such a thing would be unbearable, and a shame to his family.

Sidious had known all this, of course, that once this was done, Haluron would have no choice at all. Anger rose in Haluron, and hate, as well, but he pushed them down again. Without Sidious and his flying ship, Haluron would be trapped on Iridonia, and he would face the vengeance of Jauron’s family.

And he still burned to know the secrets that Sidious had promised him, the secrets that could not be shared without trust, without need. Now, Haluron had only Sidious, and that must to lead to both need and trust.

He would learn the secrets of these Sith, and when he learnt all he could hold, he would kill Sidious.

Haluron smiled, buried that thought as deeply as it would go, and turned away from Jauron’s corpse. He headed toward the flying ship, forcing himself not to think of vengeance and of the truth that was supposed to shine in another’s death.

Instead, he thought only on what name Sidious might give him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [swhetgenathon](http://swhetgenathon.livejournal.com/).  
> Character Prompt: Darth Maul  
> Story Prompt: Friendship or Lack Thereof


End file.
